Dispersing Illusions
by psquare
Summary: [Oneshot] Love is overrated. [Warning: Darkfic]


**_A/N_**: This fic was written primarily as a way to vent some depression and anxiety I've been feeling recently. Didn't plan on posting it, but changed my mind at the last moment. 

This fic follows the entire course of the _anime_ (I've never read the manga) after Miroku and Sango's introduction in the group, and beyond. Slightly AU as far as the consequences of major events in the anime are concerned. Told from Miroku's perspective – I find him the easiest to write, somehow. And Hakudoshi didn't happen, at least according to this fic.

I'd also like to dedicate this fic to **Aino-kaachan**, whose wonderful works in the Inu Yasha fandom helped me get over my waning interest in IY and back to writing. I _highly_ recommend reading her stories.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inu Yasha, or any of its characters. (If I did, the show would be named "Miroku, the Angsting Monk", so consider yourselves lucky).

* * *

**_Dispersing Illusions_**

"I love her so much.

"I feel guilty that I've treated her so badly all these months, and am eternally grateful for all that she's done to… _for_ me. If it were not for her, I don't think I'd even be alive now. She's smart, intelligent, beautiful, considerate, lively…"

Inu Yasha paused for breath, and gave his characteristic scowl. "Happy now, monk?"

Miroku, who was sitting in front of him, blinked, as if in a daze. Then his lips twitched in an obvious effort to suppress a smile. "Well, well, Inu Yasha. You see? All it took was a little prodding before the truth came out." The smile finally broke out, spreading and lighting his face. "Though you could've told this when Shippo and the girls come from their bath."

"Don't be stupid," Inu Yasha snapped. "You think I_ meant_ anything that I said?"

"Of course," Miroku replied promptly. He added another dry twig to the sparking campfire. "Why else would you say it, then?"

"Because that's what you people _want_ me to say, right?"

Miroku frowned. "What do you mean?"

Inu Yasha's scowl deepened and he crossed his arms over his chest. "That's what you want me to say," he repeated. "That's what you silently hound me to do – voice my so-called 'admission'. I've done it now, so you can probably leave in me peace."

Miroku found himself reverting to that uncomfortably familiar daze. "I didn't know you saw it as a… duty, Inu Yasha. Even an annoyance." He frowned. "Don't you love her?"

"No." Inu Yasha didn't meet Miroku's eyes, indigo eyes that were surprised, probing, confused, and soothing, all at the same time. "Even if I did, what would it land up in? Nothing. Nothing at all."

Miroku regarded his half-demon friend seriously. "But you must realise that she…"

He was interrupted by a snort from the hanyou. "Look who's talking." Inu Yasha stood up and strode toward the general direction of the forest. "We have shards to recover, not argue… _pointlessly_." With that, he was gone, swallowed up by the foliage, as Miroku gazed at the fire.

To say that he was disturbed by what had transpired would have been an understatement. Miroku felt as if Inu Yasha's words had tilted an invisible balance, disturbed a delicate equilibrium. The common purpose of defeating the vile Naraku – and the far more intricate bonds that had indelibly tied their souls to each other – had kept them as a single unit – not as a group of individuals, but a team that fortified and complemented each other.

Kagome's coming from the future had caused all of that, Miroku felt. Of all the things she had done to the entire group, the most she had helped had been Inu Yasha. Despite their arguments, their misunderstandings, hurtful actions and violent interactions, they loved each other; there was no doubt about that. And yet… what Inu Yasha had just said disconcerted him, troubled him in a way that the hanyou's ill-considered words had never before.

Miroku chuckled suddenly, chiding himself for slipping into such despondent suspicion. It was a miracle that he had had Inu Yasha talk so much – _especially_ to him – and it _would_ have been rather uncharacteristic of the half-demon to speak so openly of his love. There was still hope yet, for the two of them. For all of them.

_Hope…_

An image of an oval, delicate face, framed by silky brown bangs and a long ponytail that fluttered on a non-existent breeze like a banner, of brown eyes that shone with determination, of pink lips that curved ever so slightly downwards in an admonishing pout, entered his mind unbidden – though not entirely unwanted – and he smiled.

He would've been alarmed if he had seen the vacant nature of his own smile.

* * *

There was another time after that – whether it had been weeks, or months, or even years later, Miroku couldn't tell, for keeping track of time had been replaced by a restless waiting for the second his Black Hole would tear open his palm and consume him – when he found himself suddenly, inexplicably alone with Kagome. The young miko-from-the-future was busy collecting herbs to tend to Inu Yasha's latest battle injuries, and somehow she had convinced Miroku to come with her, away from the village where Sango was practicing with Kirara – and where he could get a satisfying view of her shapely rear – to the depths of the forest.

Not necessarily an unfortunate arrangement, considering the length (or lack, thereof) of Kagome's, er, _kimono_.

Her voice abruptly intruded into his increasingly lecherous thoughts. "What's wrong, Miroku?"

Miroku blinked. _Wrong? Why, things could never be more **not** wrong than now…_ he added, as the breeze played with the hem of Kagome's short skirt, providing tantalising glimpses of her thighs. "Nothing, Kagome," he said. "Why would you ask that?"

She didn't meet his eyes. "You've been, um, rather quiet since we got back, and I was just wondering…"

Miroku smiled as he recognised where exactly she was driving at – he had experienced it with women many times before. For all her will, kindness, bravery and temper, Kagome was still a woman, and a young one, at that. "Is there anything you'd like to confide in me, Kagome?" he asked gently.

Her eyes widened for a moment, before she finally seemed to give into some inner battle, and started speaking. "We've been searching for the shards – and Naraku – for quite some time now. I… I have no doubt that we'll be successful –" Miroku's smile turned bittersweet, but he didn't interrupt " – but what comes _after_ Naraku and the Sacred Jewel? For us?" Then in a smaller voice, she asked, "For me?"

"I think it's a little early to consider those questions, Kagome," Miroku began smoothly, before he was interrupted by the shake of her head. "I don't think it's too early – I mean, it's not _wrong_ to discuss the future, is it?"

Miroku pursed his lips. _Yes, yes it is wrong._ Discussing the future meant that you were going to live to see it. Or rather, that you _hoped_ that you lived to see it. And, in the day of judgement, the shattering of those hopes into shards, into disjointed, fleeting memories of a dream that no one was left to care about, would be very painful. He had come close to such a situation too many times already, and it still loomed over his life, like a thundercloud above his head. Not hoping lessened the pain of restless anticipation, the all-consuming apprehension of the fate that constantly nipped at his heels. He chose to spend his energies on more productive paths, for what would come, would come – he just had to survive it.

But he didn't say any of this to the beautiful, innocent young girl in front of him.

"I suppose it's not," he started cautiously. He paused to consider her intentions for a moment, then continued. "After Naraku, for all of us, would be redemption. For you…" Their eyes finally met. "Inu Yasha."

"Inu Yasha," she repeated, rolling that name in her tongue, almost savouring it. "Inu Yasha, and…"

"Home," Miroku finished for her. At the same time, he realised how ridiculous that sounded. Kagome belonged in the future, in her own time, in her own world, and despite the fact that Inu Yasha had visited Kagome's time many times already, Miroku was aware that the hanyou would never fit in such a world.

Kagome's thoughts seemed to be running along the same lines, for she frowned. "It's… it's so complicated, see?" Her small slender fingers, lightly calloused by the bow she so expertly wielded, picked at the leaves of the herbs she had so meticulously searched for and collected.

He put a hand on her shoulder, restraining it with great difficulty from wandering down her back. "Now is not the time to worry about such things, Kagome. I will admit that it'll be a difficult choice, but we have much to concentrate on now." Her hands stopped their restless activity as she looked into his eyes – eyes through which he had tried to convey as much reassurance and friendship as possible. Kagome hesitated, looking worried.

If he had been Inu Yasha, he would've probably growled, _Get the hint, woman, and shut up_, but he being Miroku, who, despite his immoral actions, still had a refined language and decidedly better manners than the silver-haired hanyou, waited patiently. Finally, Kagome seemed to come to her senses and she smiled that familiar bright smile at him – that smile which held the group together, that smile which he would often wake up to after several injury-induced delirious slumbers, that smile which radiated compassion…

She walked past him, toward the direction of Kaede's village. "You know, Miroku, after this whole mess," she started breezily, before being interrupted by removing an obstructing branch.

He followed, still revelling in brighter thoughts. She continued. "If I had a choice…

"I'd choose home."

* * *

He ought to have noticed it then. There was something cracking in the delicate framework of relationships and shared troubles that was their group, and Miroku ought to have acknowledged it earlier. It was still not too late, he decided, as he settled at the bank of the little creek that snaked around Kaede's village.

It was the height of noon, and the sunlight penetrated the clear waters of the little stream, which resembled a gently rippling mirror. A lovely breeze blew across the tiny glade, swaying the tops of the verdant green in a slow, erratic rhythm. Miroku carefully placed his staff by his side, and leaned back, using his arms as support, finding it very hard to feel pessimistic.

Naraku had disappeared – if not defeated, he had at least been banished for the time being – and it was the short but blissful time of respite from all the fighting they had been doing for the past few months. Of course, there was that rumour they had heard that Naraku had fled to the northwestern reaches of the land, but they could look into that soon enough. Now was a time for much-needed rest, introspection and planning (not to mention beautiful women).

He heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching him. That, and the wafting fragrance of jasmine, sword polish, and herbs was all he needed to ascertain that it was Sango who approached him. He waited for her to settle down beside him before speaking. "Ah, Sango. It is a beautiful day to be outside," he said, cringing inwardly as he did so. He, the professed master of verbosity, resorting to small talk about the weather to start a conversation?

Sango smiled faintly. "Yes – better than most, at least."

"Yes. Most definitely." There ensued strained silence after that, and Miroku found himself wishing that Kagome and Inu Yasha were with them. At least then Miroku and Sango could share their exasperation at the two's constant arguing – not much of an in-depth conversation, agreed, but it would still be a _conversation_. Not this… this _mockery_ of companionship.

Miroku tried again. "How is Kagome's ankle? I noticed that she sprained it slightly in the previous village."

"Oh, Kaede saw to it. I think it's fine, now." She paused. "She's gone back down the Well, again."

Miroku felt the tension relaxing. _Ah, we're finally treading on familiar ground again_. "I suspect Inu Yasha didn't take that too well?"

"He's not taking _any _of this well," Sango said, shaking her head. "He feels that we should be chasing after Naraku and the remaining jewel shards once again, not 'sitting around and twiddling our thumbs', as he puts it."

"We certainly deserve a rest – especially Kagome – even if Inu Yasha can't see it. We can afford a couple of days' reprieve."

She turned to look at him, brow furrowing, which lead to him to wonder at how beautiful she managed to look even when grim and frowning. "Are you sure about that, houshi-sama? I mean, there might not be much more time before…" Here she faltered, her gaze falling, almost involuntarily, on his gloved and sealed right hand.

_She worries?_ Miroku lifted his cursed hand for a brief moment before letting it fall back on the ground again. "I'm sure I still have a very long time, Sango – you shouldn't worry."

She bit her lip – an adorable gesture that Miroku had never, inexplicably, noticed before. "I know, but – but there's this… this _feeling_ that nothing we do is ever going to have substantial consequence, that everything… everything is falling _apart_, somehow. That, after this, there's nothing to cherish, nothing to rebuild. Just… more death, more separation." Her hands tightened their grip on the ground, pulling out handfuls of grass.

Miroku watched her quietly, letting her anxiety and apprehension shudder through her spine, and wash out of her system, if temporarily. Then he slowly placed his hand – regretting at the same time that the hand closest to her was his cursed one – over hers, in a gesture he meant to be genuinely reassuring. She seemed surprised for a couple of moments that he didn't proceed further, then relaxed, allowing a small blush to creep across the bridge of her nose. She moved almost imperceptibly toward him.

He ought to have known that such a beautiful moment couldn't last for long.

Unable to resist the golden opportunity, his fingers were soon off her hand and creeping toward her rear… exploring the lovely contours of the body part, before…

_Smack!_

… A burning pain on his cheek, accompanied by force that nearly forced him into the creek, interrupted his little moment of guilty pleasure. He held his smarting cheek as Sango stood up furiously, her hand still raised. Her face was red with suffused blood, and her eyes flashed dangerously. He regretted his actions more than he had ever before, for he had never seen Sango so angry… except when she thought of Naraku, and her brother's predicament.

"I thought it'd be different!" she said suddenly, her voice shaking slightly. "But they… they were just dreams, weren't they, houshi-sama?" She clenched her hands into fists. "Why do you have to do this? Why can't you… you tread a _line_, a limit?"

The exhaustion and irritation of all those fights he had endured in the past few months had frayed even his cultivated temper beyond recognition. Miroku felt something snap within him, as he gazed at her coldly. "It could be because you draw the line too tight, Sango."

She stared at him incredulously. "Too tight?"

Miroku couldn't stop himself. Those words had been the avalanche that had pushed him into the dark ravine of frustration that had been teasing him all his life – the ravine he had trained all his _life_ not to fall into. But now he was falling headlong into it, and he couldn't stop himself. "Too tight," he repeated. "You treat me as if… as if…"

"You were in love with me," Sango finished for him, her voice choked with tears that glistened at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry." She turned and ran back toward the village, muffling sobs that threatened to overwhelm her behind an arm.

Miroku gazed after her, too shocked to even try and call after her. Their conversation played itself over and over again in his head, its implications – of hopes being built up and torn down, of feelings and relationships hurt beyond repair, of building castles in the air, and having it crumble upon your head as one of stone – striking him, burning itself into his mind until the pain seared through his body.

"Sango…"

It _was_ too late, after all.

* * *

"I want candy, Kagome!"

Miroku smiled faintly at Shippo as the small kitsune hopped around Kagome, his hand outstretched. It was amazing that the young demon maintained such cheer, even after their physically – and mentally – exhausting fight against the Shichinintai and Naraku on Mount Hakurei…

After Inu Yasha's near death at the hands of Jakotsu and Bankotsu –

Kagome and Kouga nearly being absorbed into Naraku's new body –

Kikyo's seeming death at Naraku's hands, Sesshoumaru's accusations, Inu Yasha's soul-devouring regret, Kagome's confusion and grief –

His and Sango's confrontation against Kagura, where they had scrambled into the purified section of the mountain before she could do them any harm and he could do anything stupid –

The coldness, the formality, the painful _aloofness_ of every gesture she made to him –

"No candy?"

Kagome smiled tiredly at Shippo. "I'm afraid not, Shippo – I think I lost my backpack back on the mountain." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she surveyed their makeshift campsite. "Which brings us to another matter: we don't have any food for dinner tonight. I guess we'll have to find some." Her voice dropped a few octaves, saturated with dejection and shades of anger. "I don't suppose Inu Yasha can help us tonight."

Miroku understood her sentiments – Inu Yasha _had _been rather inconsiderate in bounding off to search for any traces of Kikyo, when it was so obvious that they – _Kagome_ – needed him badly. Inu Yasha had chosen the vengeful dead over the considerate (he wasn't sure he could say _loving_) living, and Miroku felt irritated at the hanyou's thick-headedness and seemingly utter stupidity.

He then glanced over at Sango, who seemed absorbed in darning her demon-slayer outfit, and realised he had no right to pass judgement over Inu Yasha.

"… go with him, Miroku?" Kagome was looking at him hopefully as he snapped out of his daze. "I'm sorry, Kagome, I didn't quite catch that."

"Shippo just offered to go and collect some food. Sango and I will continue to set up camp here, possibly even get some water and firewood to heat up. Why don't you accompany Shippo, Miroku?"

"Of course." He got up as Shippo jumped on to his shoulder. "We'll be back soon."

They proceeded into the dark foliage surrounding their camp, which they had located a good distance away from the destroyed Mount Hakurei, which still exuded dark, evil aura. Miroku waited with practised tolerance – who was he fooling? It was lethargy that stemmed from pure exhaustion – as Shippo sniffed the air. Almost immediately, Shippo's green eyes brightened. "I think I smell some… _animal_, I think… coming closer and closer to us," he said excitedly.

Miroku stood stock-still as he strained his senses to detect the animal that Shippo had smelt. Soon he could hear the rustling of hooves – or claws, he thought warily – against leaves. It was coming close… very close… Miroku gripped his staff diagonally in front of him, ready… he could feel the heat of Shippo's foxfire as the young demon prepared his illusory magic…

The animal – a wild boar – finally burst out into the small clearing they were standing in, clearly disturbed by the far-reaching effects of Mount Hakurei's destruction and the epic battle that had concluded just a few hours previously. Shippo was the first to make a move, as his blue flames ballooned out to cover the boar, catching it unawares. The animal squealed and thrashed, confused and blinded by the fire.

Miroku took this as an opportunity to land his spiritually charged staff on the boar's head, in a firm, decisive blow. With one long, last, drawn-out squeal, the boar slumped to the ground. Shippo jumped off Miroku's shoulder and approached the still animal cautiously, poking its side with his foot. "Is it… dead?"

Miroku nodded. "Yes, it's dead." He smiled at the kitsune, whose eyes had grown round with joy. "But now we face a bigger problem: we need to get this back to the campsite."

"Oh." The fox-demon's face fell perceptibly. "Maybe I could try transforming, and carry this back…"

"Your strength doesn't transform along with you," Miroku reminded him gently. He knelt down, and with the help of Shippo managed to get the boar slung across his shoulders. He winced as he felt the full weight of the boar, but reminded himself that he had carried heavier things in the past. Not for very long distances, granted, but what was he if not one who carried heavy burdens? A pious monk? He didn't think so.

The two of them trudged along in the darkness, Miroku depending on Shippo to guide them back to Kagome and Sango, for he simply felt too _tired_ to even trust his senses, as well-honed as they were. Shippo was unnaturally quiet, and Miroku felt that ominous dread creeping up his spine once again. For the first time, he found himself _wishing_ that the young demon would chatter, jump around, complain… _anything_, other than the grim frown he had on his face just then.

"Shippo," he started finally. "Is something troubling you?"

The kitsune started, before letting a long sigh that Miroku found disturbingly reminiscent of his own. Just what habits and feelings had the young demon been picking up from the rest of the group? "N-Nothing." He looked up at Miroku, eyes wide and swimming with unshed tears. "I'm sorry I'm not more help, Miroku. I wish I was."

"That's all right, Shippo," Miroku said, as bracingly as he could manage with an enormous boar slung across his shoulders and exhaustion nipping ferociously at his heels. "You're important to the group in more ways than you could imagine."

Shippo cast him a puzzled look. "How did you know I was about to say something about the others?"

Miroku cringed inwardly. He had gone too forward in their predictable conversation without even realising it. He offered a weak smile at the kitsune. "Let's just say I knew, and leave it at that, shall we?"

Shippo nodded, and there was a long silence after that, before the fox-demon broke it again. "Important in what ways?"

Miroku gathered his wandering thoughts abruptly, and blinked at the kitsune. "Wha –?"

"Important how?" Shippo repeated, but this time Miroku suspected the question was more rhetorical than genuine. "I just keep getting into trouble, and either Inu Yasha, you, or one of the girls have to rescue me. All the time. The only thing I'm probably good at is irritating Inu Yasha, and then jumping into Kagome's arms for protection. No wonder Inu Yasha keeps scolding me."

Kagome would have had something appropriate to say at this juncture, Miroku felt. However, all he had for company other than Shippo just then was a dead boar, and the dark forest. "That's not true, Shippo," he tried again. "You are still young, and you have much ahead of you…"

"Young. Right." Shippo continued to trudge on after that, and refused to respond to anything else that Miroku said. The monk felt righteously frustrated. He had had no idea that Shippo was worrying silently about his role in their team, but now, he thought, considering his temperament, and the various circumstances that had hounded them since the beginning of their journey, it was exactly what one would _expect_ the young demon to feel. He supposed that he ought to have done something about it – at least talked to him, earlier. Now… he wasn't sure if even Kagome could have much effect on Shippo's dented confidence.

The group was crumbling apart around him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

The world flew past him in a kaleidoscope of colours, textures melding into one another, punctuated by dry gasps, blinding turns, and the almost subconscious dancing around trees to avoiding crashing right into them. He heard Kirara flying above him, Sango on her, trying to remember how sitting on Kirara's soft fur, her strong spine, felt like. He had long lost Sango's trust – and Kirara's, consequentially – and it had been a sort of unspoken agreement between them that he should not travel on the fire-cat again, unless if absolutely necessary.

He could sense Inu Yasha and Kagome's auras ahead of them, approaching closer and closer. But that was not what caused his heartbeat to accelerate, or his spine to tingle with chilled dread. It was the presence of a powerful but fading soul near them, tainted with twice-suffered death.

Kikyo.

Miroku finally burst into the enclave where he sensed them standing. A small waterfall cascaded into a clear pool in the centre of the clearing, which was bordered on both sides by steep walls of unstable rock, peppered with weeds. Inu Yasha stood, as if in a daze, over the pool, from which emanated an unnatural blue glow. Sango landed beside him, Shippo on her shoulder. She cast a brief, questioning look at Miroku, for which he shook his head in bafflement as a reply.

Kagome and Kikyo were nowhere in sight.

The glow coming from the pool intensified, the waves of energy emanating nearly choking his spiritual senses. The waters shifted gently, as if a giant, supernatural hand had dipped itself into the pool and Kagome and Kikyo emerged out of it, encased and suspended in a bright, shimmering aura whose surface shifted and rippled through a rainbow of colours. Kagome had her glowing hand on Kikyo's chest, and both of their eyes were closed, in the grip of some sort of energy, a spiritual exchange that Miroku suspected that he could not even _begin_ to comprehend.

The mesmerising vision soon came to an end, however, as the aura rippled violently, and Kagome frowned. Kikyo's long, dark hair fanned out behind her to form a halo as she hung in the aura, limp, suspended. To the horror of everyone present, blood spurted from underneath Kagome's hand, out of the long gash Naraku's tentacles had inflicted upon Kikyo. Miroku could almost_ see_ Kikyo die, as her skin faded to the consistency of rice paper, the blood standing out starkly against pale skin. Even then, her beautiful face was serene, eyes closed, long eyelashes brushing her cheek. The aura shimmered, almost weakly, for one last time, before…

The enclave disappeared in an explosion of light.

Miroku dropped to his knees, holding his sleeved arm over his eyes to protect them from the blaze. He could feel the force of energy rush around him, past him, like he was the vortex of an uncontrollable hurricane. Finally he could feel the rush abating, and he hazarded removing his face from the safety of his robe's voluminous sleeve. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him.

Kagome lay on her knees in front of the pool, her hair mussed and brown eyes wide with surprise and a plethora of other emotions he couldn't understand. Her form glowed gently, and wisps of the incredible miko energy that her body now possessed rose from her like mist.

Kikyo was nowhere in sight.

Inu Yasha was the first to break out of the stunned silence that had settled upon the clearing like a blanket. "Where's Kikyo?" he growled, getting to his feet and approaching Kagome. "What did you do to her – what _happened_?"

Kagome's slender form trembled as she looked up at his furious face. "I- I'm sorry, Inu Yasha," she said, her voice choked. "I t-tried to save her – really I _tried_ – b-but it wasn't… wasn't enough."

"You mean to say…" Inu Yasha seemed to have trouble speaking coherently, for his voice trembled with barely-suppressed rage. "That… that Kikyo's _gone_. That she's not coming back, ever."

One look at Kagome's face gave him the answer he needed.

The howl of anguish that ripped from Inu Yasha's throat startled Miroku like nothing had before, or ever will. Its raw note of pain tore at his insides, and he detachedly wondered if he would scream the same way when the Black Hole consumed him. The scream finally petered out, and Inu Yasha was left breathing hard, clenching his fists so tight that blood dripped from the scars his claws ripped across his palms.

Then he looked at Kagome.

Miroku couldn't see Inu Yasha's expression very well from the angle he was watching, but he knew enough about interpreting body-language to know that the trembling of Inu Yasha's hands, the tautness of his shoulder blades, the bleeding, clenched fists, and the unmistakable _ferocity_ with which he swirled around to face Kagome did not bode well for the young miko. Pursing his lips determinedly, Miroku got to his feet, and proceeded to stand in between Inu Yasha and Kagome. "That's enough, Inu Yasha," he said in a voice he hoped was calm. "Do not blame her for what happened. Kikyo's soul now finally rests in peace."

Inu Yasha didn't say anything for a long moment – a moment in which his amber eyes flashed gold, and his lips lifted in a snarl – before growling, in a very low and decidedly dangerous voice, "Get out of my way, monk. _Now_."

Miroku nearly swallowed. He couldn't afford to show weakness in front of a dangerous youkai – which Inu Yasha was when he was _this_ angry. "I'm sorry, Inu Yasha, but I can't do that."

The amber was now interspersed with red.

"It was _her_ fault," the hanyou rasped, clearly having gone beyond reason. "Kikyo is gone for… forever, because of _her_." With a sudden movement, he bunched the front of Miroku's robes in his clawed hand. "Because she wanted… wanted what she could _never_ have."

Kagome gasped behind them, and Miroku was suddenly tempted to drive his spiritually charged staff right through Inu Yasha's snarling mouth. He settled for forcefully prying Inu Yasha's hands off his robe. "That's enough," he repeated. "Don't –" Whatever he was about to say was rudely interrupted, as Inu Yasha pushed him away with no small amount of force, and he was hurtling toward the bordering walls of rock, Kagome and Sango – _San…go?_ – were screaming his name, his back hit the rock and black spots danced in his vision as he dropped to the ground…

"_Kagome!_"

The enraged, concerned voice echoed painfully in the clearing – its gruff undertones so familiar that it sent waves of chill rippling through Miroku's heart.

_No, it's impossible,_ Miroku thought, as he forced his aching body off the ground. _That voice can't belong to… not him, not **now**…_

Kouga now stood between an enraged Inu Yasha and a seemingly paralysed Kagome.

_Not now…_

"I just _knew_ that smelling Dog-breath, Kagome and blood in the same area was not a good sign," Kouga growled, his blue eyes glinting dangerously. Inu Yasha responded by drawing out the Tetsusaiga, which, surprisingly, seemed reluctant to transform, but transform it did, nonetheless. "You'll pay for interrupting with your life, _wolf_." With that, he took a swipe at Kouga, which the wolf-demon barely avoided in the nick of time. He landed on a nearby rock, eyes narrowed. "So you're _serious_, hm?" He had barely finished his comment when he leapt at the hanyou, and their fight ensued.

Miroku watched with horrified fascination as the two demons swiped and clawed at each other, attacking and parrying, lunging and blocking, all in a series of reality-defying mid-air somersaults. He had seen this spectacle, this deadly _dance_, countless times before, but where previously the stabs and sweeps had intended to merely maim, now they tried to _kill_. Skewer through demonic flesh, twist claws in the other's heart… and _enjoy_ doing so.

Inu Yasha, with the Tetsusaiga, seemed to have a definite advantage, but the two Sacred Jewel shards in Kouga's legs fuelled the wolf youkai's strength and speed like Miroku had never seen before. A swing, a dust-kicking dash that got him out of the sword's deadly range, a kick that swept under Inu Yasha's defences – a kick that turned into half-dozen more in the blink of an eye, before Inu Yasha brought his pommel upon the leg, pushing it away and the whole vicious cycle started again…

"Inu Yasha! Kouga! Please stop!"

Kagome's half-sob, half-yell resounded through the little clearing. Both Inu Yasha and Kouga hesitated in their deadly duel, the latter wearing an expression of concern. "Kagome…?"

Miroku wholeheartedly shared that concern, for Kagome was now glowing brighter than ever, the wisps of light coalescing into radiant beams of blazing light. Miroku gasped as he realised what he thought had happened – Kikyo's soul, her spiritual self, had merged into that of her reincarnation's, and consequentially, Kagome's own power had increased by leaps and bounds.

Increased to levels that, it seemed, even she could not control.

Inu Yasha seemed to have understood the same, for he pushed past Kouga, all his attention riveted on Kagome. "Kikyo…" he rasped almost deliriously, and reached out with one clawed hand at Kagome. The young miko gave a muffled shriek, and in a gesture Miroku was sure was involuntary, brought her arms protectively above her head.

"Kagome!" Kouga once again jumped in between the hanyou and the woman he loved, claws bared. Memories of what happened in the next few moments, Miroku reflected later, would probably haunt him till his dying day.

In an uncontrolled, hysterical moment, a beam of radiant energy shot forth from Kagome's quivering, outstretched arms. Simultaneously, Inu Yasha let out a roar that none present had any doubts emanated from his primal demon side, and brought down the Tetsusaiga on Kouga, drawing the great blade through his heart. For an infinite moment, everything stood still as Kouga was speared on both sides – on one by the girl who might have loved him, and on the other, by the half-demon who might have been his comrade.

Time then restored itself to its natural pace, and the blood came – torrents upon torrents of it, spraying upon Inu Yasha's visage, and into the pool, mingling and roiling with the water in the moonlight, like a witch's oils. Kouga fell upon the ground, head landing on Kagome's lap – a small conciliation for so brave a soul, Miroku felt – gasping and writhing. "No… Kouga…" The tears now fell freely from Kagome's eyes, as she bent over him, wishing, hoping against hope that he would live, that he would forgive her for what she had inadvertently done.

He offered a blood-smeared, brave smile at her glistening eyes, and then focused his gaze on Inu Yasha, who stood as if turned into stone. "Take… take care of her…" One last convulsion that rocked his body prevented him from completing his sentence, and the light faded from his eyes, never to be seen again.

The Tetsusaiga dropped from Inu Yasha's limp hands, its rusty guise doing nothing to hide the blood that limned the blade – Kouga's blood. The blade's clatter upon the rocky ground echoed over and over again in the thick silence, until Miroku's mind burned with the sound. Inu Yasha's hands trembled, and he dropped to his knees, as if he couldn't believe what he had done.

Kagome's shrill sobs suddenly rented the air, as if heralding the passage of yet another hero.

* * *

Somehow, they had managed to make it back to Kaede's village.

The silence that had accompanied them in the journey – after they had handed Kouga's body back to his tribe, after they had buried him, after nearly facing the hysterical wrath of the leader-deprived tribe – had been like suffocating in a pool of cold water. Kagome had jumped back into the Well without another word and Inu Yasha had bounded off into the forest to sulk in silence, leaving only Miroku, Sango, Shippo and Kirara to stay back in Kaede's village, to explain to the old priestess what had happened.

She was considerably saddened by the events that had transpired, and confirmed Miroku's suspicions that Kikyo's powers had merged into Kagome's soul, making the halved soul whole again. Their discussions continued until the golden tendrils of dawn stretched across the sky, and Shippo was sleeping deeply against a slumbering Kirara. Kaede and Sango retired for some much-needed sleep as well, but Miroku found himself unable to do the same. Restless and troubled, he left the hut and walked toward the outskirts of the village, trying to clear his mind and achieve the calm that he had been taught all his life was his ultimate goal – peace of mind, calmness, _enlightenment_.

A spark of demonic aura tingled at the edge of his senses, growing larger and larger until he was able to ascertain that a large horde of the vile creatures was moving toward the village – no doubt instigated by Naraku to attack them in their moment of vulnerability. Miroku clenched his cursed right hand in readiness. He had better deal with them before something happened.

Gripping his staff with the other hand, he ran toward the direction of the looming dark aura, swerving and sprinting through the forest until he reached an empty clearing that was conducive to his… _style_ of fighting.

The first wave of approaching demons was now visible over the horizon, and with them was, much to Miroku's dismay, a swarm of the poisonous saimyoshou. Using his Black Hole was pretty much out of the question, now. Pulling out an ofuda from within his robe, he cast it at the swooping demons, its spiritual power stopping them long enough for him to eliminate a dozen or so with a sweep of his staff. This process continued for quite some time, until sheer number overpowered him. The raking of demon claws into his side, penetrating his weakening barrier, and the burst of white-hot pain across his vision reminded him rather forcefully of the need for his Black Hole, saimyoshou or not.

Flipping out of the range of the enraged onslaught of demons, he wedged his staff into the ground and ripped the restraining beads off his Black Hole. The winds picked up around him into that disturbingly familiar gale as the demons were sucked into his void, tangible shapes reduced to strips of colour, growls reduced to howls of anguish as the demon bodies were stretched and then disintegrated into particles smaller than atoms.

The insects accompanied them, the poison that exuded from their bodies entering his bloodstream like melting ice. Miroku gasped from the painful sensation, but kept his ground, bringing his other arm to support the shaking one that held the curse. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as the demons continued to be sucked in, an endless stream of colour and destruction, a bloody thread of death that sprung from his hand.

Finally, in as abrupt a moment as it had started, the flow of demons stopped, inexplicably exhausted. In a single, weak, shaking movement, Miroku pushed the glove and beads back over his Black Hole, noting somewhat detachedly that the edges of the void were nicked again – possibly by some stray claw – and bleeding. That reduced his lifetime by at least a few months, if he didn't do something about it immediately. As his legs gave out beneath him and his knees buckled, Miroku realised that "immediately" was a luxury he couldn't afford.

His breathing became increasingly strained as he reached out and clutched his staff for support, revelling in the cold solidity of the metal shaft. He pulled himself painfully to his feet, and ignoring the white-hot pain that lanced through his side, tried to concentrate on getting back to the village. His vision swam and danced in front of his eyes, making it no easy task.

In a pained haze, he staggered on, each step drawing the poison closer to his heart; making his side burn like someone was repeatedly stabbing the transformed Tetsusaiga through it. Finally he closed his eyes, and allowed his feet to take him wherever it deigned to. If it was to his death, then so be it.

It didn't really matter, not any more.

Almost as soon he finished that thought, his stagger was met by an obstruction. An obstruction that wasn't the rough bark of a tree, or the scaly hide of a demon, or even the dew-drenched soil of the ground. It was soft, warm, _human._ Someone was holding his arms, calling out his name in concern as he slumped against a delicate shoulder, spent beyond the pinnacle of his endurance.

A _female_ someone.

He forced his eyes to open, to gaze into the eyes of his saviour. Brown eyes that glistened with tears of concern… concern for _him_… Pink lips that formed his name, over and over again, though the rush of blood in his ears prevented him from hearing the voice that he remembered sounded as soothing as water trickling along in a stream…

"San… go?"

_Please let it be her…_

Her voice finally penetrated the hazy fog that his mind was suspended in, husky and soothing.

"Don't worry, Miroku-sama, it's me, Koharu. I'll get you somewhere safe… I'll…"

He didn't hear the rest as his mind finally shut itself down, and a blanket of blissful oblivion smothered his consciousness.

* * *

It seemed that adversity – more than the love and concern that Miroku had wanted, _hoped_ for – was the glue they needed to get the motley group back together, to once again set aside their differences and work towards achieving a common goal. Oh, of course, it _did_ go much deeper than just adversity, Miroku thought as he observed Naraku's latest hideout with the rest of his 'group'. It touched the icy glaciers of revenge, anger and the overwhelming need for redemption.

But not love. Never love.

He had been recuperating under Koharu's care when he heard the news: Inu Yasha had discovered – after much trial and tribulation – Naraku, and the stage was set for endgame. Miroku had a sneaking suspicion that Naraku had shown himself more out of exasperation for their little 'games' rather than Inu Yasha actually _finding_ him. This could be a trap.

But he really didn't care.

He had a mission to complete.

And now everybody was reunited – in front of the enemy's den, so to speak – and some of the old shared sympathy and needs that had first brought the group together seemed to reviving itself. Even Kagome was present, and despite the fact that the usual cheer on her face had been replaced by hard rage, cold determination, her presence bolstered Miroku's confidence considerably.

Naraku emerged out of the cave finally, flanked on one side by Kohaku and the other by Kagura. Behind him was the little dead-eyed girl – Kanna – and in her arms she held a small white bundle, which, Miroku suspected, held her mystical mirror. Tentacles swirled around Naraku's form, coiling and uncoiling like vipers, and the miasma that drifted from them was choking. The vile hanyou leered at them. "I suppose you couldn't wait for the death that was already nipping at your heels."

"_You're_ the only one who's gonna die here, Naraku," Inu Yasha spat, drawing out the Tetsusaiga.

One eyebrow arched impressively in supreme disdain, before Inu Yasha charged forward with his gargantuan sword aimed at where Naraku's heart should've been. Predictably, his strike bounced harmlessly off Naraku's barrier. "You want to fight me, half-demon?" His tentacles rose suddenly, stabbing upward in the air, as if shot from one of the strange Western machines that the soldiers of some of the castles had been wielding lately.

Before he and the others could try and help Inu Yasha, Kagura advanced, and with a wave of her fan, winds moving fast enough to shred human flesh swirled in a symmetric hurricane around Miroku, Shippo and Kirara, effectively cordoning them off. Sango was left to handle a possessed Kohaku, while Kagome…

Where _was_ Kagome?

He didn't have the luxury of having time to wonder about that, however, as the winds swirled closer and closer to them – close enough to shear a bit of Kirara's fur, and some of his robe. Shippo whimpered, practically pressing onto Miroku's leg, as the monk held his staff diagonally, concentrating. Energy sparked around the head of the staff, and with a wordless charm, he thrust it upwards. They could hear Kagura gasping, as if in pain, and the winds abated. Miroku couldn't help a smug smile as he saw Kagura nearly on her knees, gasping for breath.

She glared at him. "Grown stronger, have you, houshi?"

Another wave, and she was in the air, and her formidable Blades of Wind were blazing toward them. A transformed Kirara lifted Shippo into the air with her teeth, and Miroku leapt out of the way of the projectiles. He reached for his cursed hand. This was the appropriate time to…

As if on cue, a swarm of the saimyoshou appeared behind her, and a curse that hardly seemed befitting a man of his stature escaped from Miroku's lips. The Black Hole had been the only chance he had against Kagura – the spiritual weakening charms he had used before were too draining, and he couldn't be running from her attacks forever. He also couldn't risk taking in more of the poison insects – not while he was still recovering from the attack of a week ago. He couldn't die, not until he had seen Naraku go to the pits of hell.

Shippo solved the problem for him.

"Miroku!" the young kitsune cried. "Leave the insects to me – and get ready to use your Black Hole!"

He couldn't imagine what the young fox demon would do, and was almost ready to stop Shippo, but one look at the kitsune's determined face was enough to bring memories of their earlier conversation, and to convince Miroku to trust the young demon. Kagura smirked. "We will see what you can… _do_, you insignificant _child_."

Shippo jumped to the ground, glowing with light from pale green flames, that… didn't really seem like flames at all. It reminded Miroku of the pale light that storm lanterns cast, and it didn't occur to him _how_ exactly _that_ would help them…

He gasped as the entire swarm of insects that had been buzzing behind Kagura now made a beeline (he _had _to grin at his own pun) for Shippo, attracted by the light. The young fox-demon was ready for them, however. He expanded the ball of foxfire that he had been surreptitiously concentrating between his paws, and released it at the incoming swarm of insects, incinerating almost all of them at once. Shippo couldn't possibly hope to finish off the insects one by one before Kagura cleaved both their heads off, so he had chosen the alternative: using himself as bait, he had gotten the insects both into a group – which made it easy to get rid of all of them at once – and distracted.

Miroku just _had_ to admire the simple ingenuity of the plan.

"Now, Miroku!" Shippo yelled. "Use your Black Hole before more of them come!"

He nodded determinedly and removed the rosary within the blink of an eye, catching a dazed Kagura unawares. The winds from his Black Hole pulled at her relentlessly, her eyes wide with fear and rage and a million other emotions, and yet, she just _wouldn't be sucked in_. Miroku found himself slowly understanding why. Despite the fact that she couldn't entirely escape from the pull of the Black Hole, she still had enough mastery over the wind – she _was_ Kagura, the Sorceress of Wind, after all – to prevent herself from being sucked in. They could be stuck at this impasse until more of the saimyoshou came, and Miroku would be forced to close his Black Hole. He gritted his teeth.

He _couldn't_ let Shippo's valiant efforts to help him go to waste!

Still holding his curse open, Miroku reached for his staff with his left hand. He tossed it up and caught it in the same hand, holding it like a javelin, the sparking bottom end facing Kagura's chest. He had only one chance. If he was successful, Kagura would be dead, and he would be closer to killing Naraku. If he was not… well.

He narrowed his eyes in concentration, trying to extend his spiritual senses toward her. He realised with a start that focussing on her chest was going to be of no avail, for she possessed no heart to spear through – he had expected nothing less from one of Naraku's offspring. He shifted his staff in his grip to aim at her head. Dear Buddha, this just _had _to work… He could already see a new nest of saimyoshou flying toward the battle…

He closed the Black Hole abruptly and used the same moment to fling the spiritually charged staff at Kagura, taking advantage of the demoness's momentary disorientation. Miroku felt as if time had congealed as he watched the staff fly toward her head… cutting through air, on and on… until it struck true right in the middle of her forehead. Charged with Miroku's spiritual power, it continued to plough on, until the edge of the staff appeared at the back of her head in a fountain of blood. With a gasping gurgle, Kagura fell from the air, wafting, almost hesitantly, like the feathers she had once used. She dropped to the ground, dead.

Miroku stepped forward, panting from the exertion of having used so much power twice within a short interval, and removed his blood-drenched staff from her head, quelling his revulsion. Shippo jumped onto his shoulder, hugging his neck in relief. "You did it, Miroku!"

Miroku nodded tiredly, and looked up to see how Sango was doing against her brother. The demon-slayer was panting, and bloodied – a long gash ran across her arm and down her side, inflicted by Kohaku's sickle. Kohaku himself was injured – but he seemed completely unaware of the damage his body was taking, egged on by the power of the Sacred Jewel shard in his back.

The two continued to fight – Sango still cared too much for her brother to cause him any serious harm, and Kohaku was still not skilled enough to beat his more experienced sister in combat. The battle could literally continue forever, unless one of them was able to…

Sango avoided another one of Kohaku's more inspired swipes by a hairbreadth, blocking the next one with the Hiraikotsu as she crouched, trying to regain her breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the blood from a cut she couldn't remember taking, and she seemed to come to a decision. Miroku watched her with dread making its chilled presence felt at the base of his spine, as she stood straight, Hiraikotsu held firmly in one hand. Kohaku hesitated, momentarily confused at his opponent's sudden break from the duel, and warily lifted his sickle, waiting for more attacks.

Sango lifted the Hiraikotsu. "Kohaku, I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "But it'll be better this way." She swung the huge boomerang in his direction, as Kohaku watched, uncomprehending. The boomerang brushed the top of his head as it swung above and away from him, spinning, spinning all the while. Kohaku stiffened, and Miroku felt the dread climb up his spine. _What's going on?_

The mighty boomerang reached the pinnacle of its parabolic course and retraced its path, spinning toward Kohaku.

This time, however, it didn't miss.

The spinning ends of Hiraikotsu gouged into Kohaku's back, bringing out the sustaining Sacred Jewel shard in a spurt of blood. Kohaku gasped, swaying, as blood poured from numerous injuries – both seen and unseen. Sango ran forward and caught him before he fell, the tears falling faster, harder, hotter. "Oh, Kohaku," she whispered repeatedly, holding his blood-drenched body against hers, rocking him back and forth.

He let out a low moan, and opened his eyes – really _opened_ them, to gaze into the tear-streaked face of the woman who meant so much to him. His eyes clouded over with the tears Miroku knew must have been brought on by the returning memories of the brutalities he had committed… had been _forced_ to commit, by the vile plans of Naraku. "Sango…" Kirara came up beside him in her small form, mewling gently as she licked his face. "Kirara…" Tears cleaved a path through matted blood.

"I – I'm sorry, sister…"

One last shuddering breath ended his young life, and Sango hugged his cold body harder, sobs racking her body. Miroku wished he could comfort her – place a warm hand on her shoulder, offer his arms to fall into, to cry away the pain… but he couldn't. It was not his place, anymore. She needed someone else to whisper those words of comfort, to embrace, support – not him. Someone else.

Someone more _deserving_.

Someone who was not going to probably die in a few minutes.

He tore his eyes from the blood-drenched siblings and focussed his gaze on Inu Yasha, who seemed to be having plenty of trouble with Naraku. He could hack off the reaching tentacles easily enough, but for each appendage that was cut, a new one grew – not in the old one's place, which would've made things easier for Inu Yasha, but in a completely unprecedented area of the body, attacking the half-dogdemon unawares. Sometimes he avoided them; sometimes they tore long scars along his skin, penetrating even his 'impenetrable' haori.

The barrier _still_ prevented him from causing any real damage.

Just as Miroku contemplated trying to help Inu Yasha, he felt the flare of an incredibly powerful aura behind him, and swirled around to see Kagome emerge out of the foliage bordering the battleground, glowing in the same ethereal light he had seen on the day Kikyo had merged with her. She held up her bow, carefully placed an arrow, and pulled the bowstring taut, aiming at Naraku. "Inu Yasha!" she yelled. "Move aside!"

Inu Yasha stiffened upon seeing her, and moved away, more out of instinct than will. Naraku frowned as the arrow formed an aura – one so tangible that Miroku felt he could touch it. With a mighty _twang_, she released the bowstring, and the arrow flew in a straight, true path toward Naraku. Miroku gripped his staff in anticipation. This could be it. This could be the end of Naraku. How could Kagome's new powers fail?

The arrow impacted against the barrier, and shattered.

_No._

Naraku laughed – a laugh that was slow, mocking, and felt to Miroku like a white-hot knife being twisted slowly in his heart. _It didn't work…_

_Wait! _The barrier… it was shimmering erratically… it wasn't supposed to do that…

Naraku's smirk slipped off his face like melting butter.

With a shockwave that was nearly strong enough to topple Miroku onto his rear, the barrier vanished. Kagome smiled – a smile that was shocking in its expression of pure, primal joy… a smug smile with which a predator told its prey, "_I have won, and you have lost_." Miroku frowned. _Kagome… what's happened to you?_

"Now you die, Naraku!"

Miroku realised that he had almost forgotten about Inu Yasha, and turned around to see the hanyou rushing toward Naraku, Tetsusaiga held aloft. The other half-demon had barely any time to react, as Inu Yasha cleaved his head off in a single, clean stroke, uttering a howl of triumph in the process. Miroku stared, disbelieving.

Was Naraku really dead?

Miroku looked at his cursed hand, cautiously lifting his rosary. Immediately a small breeze began to claim for his hair, and he hastily closed the Black Hole. How could Naraku _not _be dead? He was certain that it had not been just a puppet that Inu Yasha had destroyed. What had just happened?

Naraku's floating head smirked, and rested itself on its body once again. With a sickening shifting of bone and muscle, the head welded itself back into place. "You cannot possibly kill me, infidels," Naraku growled. "All you can do now is hope that your deaths will be painless."

Inu Yasha's triumph turned into rage within the blink of an eye. "There has to be _some_ way to kill you, you fiendish bastard!" The tentacles rose again, but this time they spewed poison fumes and bore thorns that Miroku had no doubt would spear through Inu Yasha as easily as a knife through hot butter. Kirara transformed, and valiantly tried to fend away the tentacles, and managed to clamp her teeth over one. The poison entered her jaws and she was thrown off to land in a thrashing, foaming heap beside Inu Yasha. Sango stood with a cry and rushed to the side of her faithful steed.

Miroku felt a helplessness seep into every pore of his body, forcing him to sweat profusely. There _had_ to be a way… there always was a _way_…

In the instant Naraku dodged a particularly vicious attack from Inu Yasha, Miroku saw it.

The girl, the dead-eyed girl, the girl who could absorb souls through her mirror, the girl who was now discreetly trying to leave the battlefield. Kanna.

Somehow, she was the key here. It looked like Naraku was _protecting_ her… why was that? He had not batted an eyelid for the deaths of both Kagura and Kohaku – obviously they had been _expendable_ to him – but why the concern for Kanna's life? Miroku couldn't make any sense out of it.

_Unless…_

He remembered Kagura, and why he hadn't shot her in the chest. She had had _no heart_. What if… it was the same for Naraku, himself? What if Naraku had placed his heart – his vulnerable heart, his _human_ heart – somewhere else for its safety?

What if… he had placed it in _Kanna's hands_?

"Kagome!" He cried, turning toward her, bursting with new knowledge. "Naraku… Naraku's heart… strike… strike Kanna!"

She stared at him for a moment, confused, but cocked an arrow in her bow nonetheless. She pulled the bowstring taut. "Do you mean to say Kanna is the heart? Should I strike her?"

Miroku shook his head. "Not Kanna… but the _bundle_ in her arms. I… I think that's Naraku's heart."

Sango walked up to them, her tear-streaked, bloodstained – _still so beautiful – _face now hardened with rage. She seemed to have overheard their conversation, for she raised an eyebrow at Miroku. "Think?"

"Know," Miroku amended.

"Well… we can give it a try," Kagome said, lightly shrugging her arms. The familiar aura built up around the tip of the arrow, and her eyes narrowed in concentration as she tried to aim. Naraku's flailing tentacles were blocking the way, making it nearly impossible to try and get a clear shot at Kanna. Sango recognised Kagome's problem. "I'll cleave you a way," she told the girl, hefted the Hiraikotsu and flung it with all her might.

Penetrating the destroyed barrier, the great boomerang efficiently hacked away more than a dozen tentacles at once, and Kagome's path, for the moment, was virtually clear. "Now, Kagome!" Sango cried as she caught the returning Hiraikotsu. "Shoot now!"

Kagome needn't be told twice. Her arrow left the bow before Naraku had a chance to re-grow the protective tentacles, and pierced the bundle Kanna held before her chest. The arrow speared through the bundle, and through Kanna herself, and Naraku let out a scream like none present had ever heard before.

To Miroku, it sounded like strains of melody from the lyres of heaven.

"Kill him now, Inu Yasha," Kagome said, her voice perfectly calm, composed.

"Be glad to," Inu Yasha growled, and jumped into the air with his sword to swoop down for the kill. The telltale glow of the Windscar gathered around the Tetsusaiga, casting long shadows across the blood-drenched ground. Naraku's eyes flashed wordless hatred, even – Miroku fancied – _fear_. His many tentacles coalesced into one in front of him, aiming for Inu Yasha's chest. Miroku watched in horror as the two hanyou charged at each other.

There was a sick, wet sound, of steel piercing through flesh, and twin screams of pain that were so high-pitched with agony, it was difficult to make out which was Naraku's and which was Inu Yasha's.

Miroku gasped at the spectacle in front of him.

Inu Yasha had speared the Tetsusaiga right through Naraku's body, while at the same time Naraku's own tentacle-sword had ripped through his heart. The two half-demons remained in that posture for an infinite moment, before slumping to the ground – Inu Yasha dead, Naraku dying.

Kagome fell to her knees, as if she had just broken out of a daze. The nearly completed Sacred Jewel rose from Naraku's wasted body, as did the two shards in her hand – Kouga's shards – and the one that had sustained Kohaku for more than a year. The Sacred Jewel completed itself above them, its aura still tainted from Naraku's evil, and then lowered itself into Kagome's cupped palms. It glowed with a brilliant light as she purified it.

Miroku, Sango and Shippo watched her expectantly. What was she going to use it for? Was she going to bring Inu Yasha back to life? Harmony between humans and demons? A demon-less world?

A single tear rolled down Kagome's cheek and landed on the shining surface of the Jewel. In a flash of brilliant light, and an aura that really _did_ have Miroku staggering back, the Sacred Jewel disappeared – and with it, Kagome.

"Kagome!" Sango clutched blindly at the empty space her friend had occupied just a few seconds ago. Miroku, however, had more pressing problems to tend to – white-hot pain had just lanced through his right arm from the Black Hole, and he fearfully wondered if all of the suffering and pain he – _they_ – had undergone had been for nothing. He ripped off the rosary, expecting the worst to happen…

"Oh, Miroku!"

… only to stare at the void shrinking further and further into his palm, until was no bigger than a black blemish. The Black Hole was disappearing! He had survived, lived – and he would… would _continue_ to do so! He smiled at Sango, mind ensconced in delirious happiness…

"I… I will not… die… while _you_ live, houshi…"

… And Miroku felt unbearable pain as a tentacle – Naraku's last effort – pierced from behind, into his chest and through his heart with deadly accuracy. The world swayed and danced in a mass of colours interspersed with darkness, with those dark interludes growing longer and longer. He fell back against the ground, barely noticing as he cracked his skull against the hard rock. Miroku lay there, having lost the futile race he had been running all his short life.

He reflected on the irony that had been his life as it faded away into nothingness.

* * *

A couple of months later, Koharu, pregnant with Miroku's child, was shunned out of her adopted village for bearing a fatherless child – to find refuge with Mushin, who taught her, and consequently, her child, all that he knew. Koharu took over the shrine and his duties upon his death.

Sango found her place in the castle of Takeda, where she was married to the Lord – who had already been infatuated with her – and made princess of the castle. Kirara and Shippo accompanied her, the latter of the two growing up to be one of the land's bravest and most brilliant war strategists, whose name was spoken with respect and wonder many generations even after his demise.

The cycle continued.

* * *

More than five hundred years into the future, in a different millennium, Kagome Hojou sat by a window, gazing at the moonlight, reflecting.

Memories of past adventures and experiences – experiences that seemed like they had occurred a lifetime ago – teased the edges of her mind, bringing with it a barrage of painful images. Images of demons and hanyou, monks and demon-slayers, priestesses and princesses. Images of endless fighting, gore and death. Images of her last moments in the Feudal Era, where the complete Sacred Jewel had sat in her hands, and the fate of the country had seemingly rested on her uniform-clad shoulders.

"_I'd choose home…_"

Kagome smiled wanly to herself as she remembered the fantasies she had harboured before that terrible incident with Kikyo and Kouga. How she had longed to complete the Sacred Jewel, so that she could do away with all the fighting and destruction. So that she could fulfil the responsibility Kikyo had died trying to. So that she and Inu Yasha could stay together… forever. So that her friends would finally find the happiness that had for so long eluded them.

When the Jewel _did_ drop into her hands, so to speak, she could remember her mind going blank, leaving only one thought, one feeling to linger – she wanted to _go back_. She had wanted it all to _end_, for everything to be _normal_ again.

It did – for, in the very next moment, she had found herself safe in her bed and nobody remembered… _anything_. About Inu Yasha, or her mission in the Feudal Era, time-travelling wells or reincarnations of priestesses. Not Mother, not Souta, not even Grandpa… it was as if she had been given another chance at life, and she had grabbed it with both hands.

She had hesitated – briefly – as she remembered the love she had once held for a certain half-demon. Yes, it had been _love_ – she wouldn't sully its memory by describing it as 'teenage infatuation'. But what had the love led to? What had it accomplished? A love that didn't lead to stability, she felt, was a love not worth pursuing.

All those battles… all those weeks lost in restless travelling, fighting, adventure… they had finally led to no solid consequence. Naraku had died, true, but his death, aside from assuring future generations one less evil to contend with, had done nothing. Scars had been inflicted, and they would never go, even if they killed Naraku over and over again. As for the Sacred Jewel… it still existed, Kagome mused. Only now, it was known as 'money'.

Her husband came up behind her, snaking his warm arms around her neck, nuzzling his face against her cheek. It was an unspoken gesture of comfort – that he would be _there_ for her, and she had built her new life on the rock-solid certainty of that fact. Her past experiences, despite instilling in her the adventurer's blood, and a deep understanding of matters she would have once considered _way_ beyond her ken, had never provided that sort of certainty, that stability.

No – those experiences had been reduced to fleeting memories that no one wanted to remember. They had no more ramifications on her life; they _never_ had, really. _She_ had chosen to shunt between two worlds, helping her 'friends' to scramble for a light they could never really reach. And at the end of it all, everything had been but a dream – a bedtime story to enthral her kids…

… Illusions, to be dispersed.

_**Finis

* * *

**_


End file.
